Watching
by Deviant-Little-Angel
Summary: He had never noticed her watching. Never noticed the way she would stop and stare whenever he walked by." Would he ever notice her? Did he feel the same way? Could they ever get the one they want?


**This is an idea that came to me while in chemistry class...I don't really like this pairing, but it seemed to work. Let me know what you think.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I would like to...but I don't**

**Extra special thanks to my bestie, Sadies, for reading and checking, and for everything!!!**

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He had never noticed her watching. Never noticed the way she would stop and stare whenever he walked by. Never noticed how only he could make her truly smile, the kind of smile that would light up her whole face. He never noticed her, the young girl wanting him, loving him, wanting him to love her back.

She had tried to keep her feelings a secret. None of her friends knew. None of her friends would understand. No one would. They had known she liked someone, but despite all their pestering, they never found out. She didn't know what she would do if they ever did find out. They would probably hate her, they wouldn't understand how hard it was for her to like someone and not be able to say or do anything, for fear of rejection, for fear of everyone knowing, for fear of losing everything and everyone she had.

In her eyes, none of the other boys matched up. They were so stupid, they weren't what she wanted. There was only one she wanted. Only one she needed.

Every day she made sure she kept on her mask; the one that would hide her true feelings. She had to make sure she didn't do anything for anyone to suspect. In class, she had trouble trying to focus when he was near, she had trouble breathing when he was close enough to reach out and touch.

Sometimes he ridiculed her. Her friends had all felt sorry for her. She hadn't cared; she was just happy that he had spoken to her. She knew that was very sad, very pathetic, but she didn't care.

Occasionally their eyes would meet. His pale eyes would stare into hers. Her heart would soar, but she would pull away, just before the blush would take form on her face. He would laugh if he knew how she was feeling, what she was thinking in those precious few moments. He would laugh, and so would everyone else.

She noticed the way that over time, that his attitude toward her changed. He still hated her, but at least it wasn't as much as usual. He stopped calling her 'mudblood', he slowed down the insults. At first she was upset he appeared to be ignoring her, but then she realised he wasn't being as mean, and couldn't help but wonder what that meant.

She never knew what he was thinking. She never knew, and would never know how he really felt about her. How, under his sneering mask, his heart would sing every time he saw her. And how, he truly hated himself for even liking her, let alone for falling in love with her.

They told themselves that they didn't like each other. They told themselves that they could like each other. They were polar opposites; he was a wealthy pure blood, she a nerdy muggle born. And yet there was something between them, something that pulled them toward each other.

They kept a distance at all times, hoping to quench the flames. She buried herself further in her studies, he turned to other girls. But they knew what they wanted, what they couldn't, and shouldn't have.

He was in her dreams. He was always there, waiting for her, waiting to hold her. Occasionally she would wake up crying, longing for what she didn't have. Some nights were worse than others. One night it was calm and dark outside, and in her dreams she had been kissing him. She tried to get back to sleep, but she missed the feeling of his lips on hers, even though she knew it wasn't real. So she snuck out of her dormitory, and headed out to the lake, where she could sit and think as she looked at the stars above.

She occupied his thoughts all day, and his dreams all night. Usually he woke up longing for what he didn't have, and would walk outside, the cool night air calming him down. One night, he discovered he wasn't alone.

She was sitting under a tree, lightly throwing pebbles into the lake. He stood a few meters away behind a tree, watching her. Watching the way the moonlight illuminated strands of her bushy brown hair. The way her arm seemed so pale and fragile as she flicked another stone. Watching as she turned around.

She flicked rocks, watching them splash into the black lake until she felt as though she was being watched. She turned around, peering into the darkness.

He didn't dare breathe. He kept in the shadow of a tall tree, hoping he wouldn't be seen. But she knew someone was there. He went to take a step back, to turn and leave, but his foot stood on a stick on the ground. He heard it bend under the weight of his foot. He inhaled sharply, waiting for her to call out but she didn't say anything. So using the darkness as a cover he turned and headed back.

It became a habit of theirs; she would sneak out at night and he would follow just to watch her. Never brave enough to show his face; never brave enough to let her know he was there. He didn't know if she knew that he was behind her, she never said anything.

And he never saw the piece of parchment she had borrowed from her friend. The piece of parchment that told her where people were, told her who was following her. She smiled when his name appeared on the paper as she snuck out at night. But she wasn't brave enough to tell him that she knew he was there. She didn't know what she would say; she didn't know what she would do. Or why he was there.

Weeks passed, and the routine became familiar. They both knew that one day something could happen, but they were so different; the lion and the snake; the two that couldn't be.

It was the night before Christmas, the grounds were colder and quiet as she snuck out. To her surprise he was sitting in the moonlight by the lake, the light reflecting off the surface of the water, illuminating his pale blond hair. She was torn, unsure of whether to go over or to stay where she was. She paused, and as if sensing her behind him. He curled one finger, indicating for her to head over. He was making the first move.

She sat on the cold stones beside him, unable to speak. He didn't look at her, but she didn't know it was because he was contemplating his next move. He looked at the silver watch on his wrist, the moonlight reflecting the time. It was nearly midnight.

He stood up gracefully, offering her his hand. She placed her cold hand in his own, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He pulled her into him, their bodies nearly touching. He kept a firm hold of her hand, using his other one to brush her hair out of her eyes. Then he tilted her face up, and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her respond, and kiss him back. Her arm came behind him and ran through his hair.

They stood in the cold moonlight, kissing, pulling warmth from each other, until well into Christmas morning. An owl swept overhead and the pulled back in shock. He leaned in and kissed her again before pulling away.

"Merry Christmas, Granger."

"Merry Christmas, Malfoy."

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**Push the green button...**


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